


A Dance and A Kiss

by CateAdams



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CateAdams/pseuds/CateAdams
Summary: Pure fluff and fun.  Jim finally gets shore leave, and Spock gets his man.





	

     Music pulsed and colorful lights flashed and Jim Kirk suddenly realized, halfway through his second Verillikan iced tea, that he was practically tipsy. _Practically_ , his brain assured him firmly, was not _actually_. And besides, it was his first shore leave in five months. Appeased, he tipped his glass again, enjoying the richly complex flavor of the alien liquor.

     Across the table, Leonard McCoy was laying on the charm with a pretty waitress and Jim couldn’t help a smile at their interaction, his eyes drifting on across the crowded dance floor. It was late and he was tired but content. McCoy’s familiar presence warmed him, the alcohol soothed him, and the absence of immediate duty felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Five months, and rough ones, too: one crisis after another and barely any time in between. Jim exhaled and took another long pull from his drink, forcing difficult memories aside.

     “Hi, Captain!”

     A hearty clap on his shoulder followed the enthusiastic salutation and Jim looked up to see the grinning face of a passing crewmember. He returned the greeting, just now noticing how many of the ship’s complement were mingling in the crowd around the bar and whirling around the dance floor. He caught a glimpse of Uhura’s lithe form in the chief engineer’s arms, and Sulu holding someone Jim didn’t recognize.

     “This place is great,” McCoy drawled, and Jim looked back to see that the waitress had gone and two more drinks had magically appeared on their table. “The atmosphere’s absolutely perfect,” the doctor continued. “Just what I needed.”

     Jim shrugged amiably. “I’ll say.” He put his empty glass down and considered the new volume of golden liquor in front of him as the lights dimmed and more couples joined the throng on the dance floor, spilling out among the nearer tables.

     “What you needed, too,” Bones said, smirking enigmatically. “Go on and drink up. Doctor’s orders.”

     “Which of us is going to remember where the hotel is at the end of all this?” Jim quipped. “Keep going with these and I’ll be chasing Scotty for a turn around the floor.”

     “I know you love to dance, Jim, but Uhura’d have your balls sideways,” McCoy said, laughing heartily at his own joke.

     Jim shrugged and pulled the full glass closer to him. “What the hell.”

     “Attaboy.”

     Another swallow and another wave of warmth washed over Jim’s body as he leaned back in his chair, smiling at his friend. In the background, the music shifted into something slower, and those on the dance floor slipped into close embraces. Couples swayed against each other as the lights dimmed even further. The captain watched bodies undulating sensually, hands in all the right places. He felt his own body move almost imperceptibly to the underlying beat.

     McCoy was saying something, and Jim leaned forward. “I missed that.”

     Bones grunted and pushed their half-eaten plate of appetizers closer to the captain. “I said, why don’t you chew on something.”

     Jim grinned wanly. He slowly picked up a piece of delicately fried vegetable and examined it as the doctor watched him amusedly. “I can’t believe you hid my communicator,” the captain said offhandedly. He tilted his head accusingly at his friend, the vegetable still dangling from his fingertips. “That’s against regulations.”

     “I have my reasons.”

     “Really, Bones? What are those?” Jim popped the fried food in his mouth, savoring it.

     McCoy shrugged, fighting and failing to keep a Cheshire smile from his lips. “I imagine one reason will show up sooner or later.” He snorted. “Probably sooner.”

     Jim narrowed his eyes. “Bones—.”

     “Yes, Jim?” The doctor’s blue eyes held exaggerated innocence.

     “It’s not going to happen.”

     “What?”

     “Any of it.” Jim’s lips twisted as he stared into his glass, recalling his whispered confession to the doctor in a dark cave on an alien world just over a week ago. “I was dying and delirious. You shouldn’t have believed a word I said. Blood loss and all that.”

     McCoy snorted again, louder. “Sure, Jim. Maybe if I’d been anywhere else but between the two of you for the last few years.”

     Jim shook his head as McCoy nodded. “Oh, yes,” continued the doctor in a sing-song tone. “Both of you as stubborn as they come. Ogling each other and pretending that no one else notices. Him staring at your hands. You staring at his mouth,” McCoy’s grin grew sly,” and other places.”

     “Goddamn bridge scanner,” muttered the captain, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s as bad as those red exercise tights.”

     “Mm-hmmm.”

     Jim waved his hand toward the dance floor. “I notice people, Bones. Men, women, whatever. It’s gotten me into, and out of, a considerable amount of trouble.”

     “Your notice has been somewhat restricted lately,” McCoy commented wryly, swirling his drink, “and I know you pretty damn well. Your declaration on that godforsaken planet wasn’t blood loss or delirium, it was the honest truth. And about time, too.”

     Jim sighed, suddenly not in the mood to argue the point any further; admitting it seemed like a relief and it wasn’t like McCoy would leave it alone. “He’s Vulcan. Even if he knew how I felt, he’d argue that us getting together wasn’t logical. We’re friends. We’re a command team. Vulcans don’t do this or that. Anyway, he’s not waiting around on the ship checking on my comm status and pining for me, Bones. He’s got better things to do.”

     McCoy’s eyes were fastened on something over Jim’s left shoulder. “Well, you’re right about that.” He shrugged, standing and picking up his drink. “Hey, Spock! Over here!”

     Jim glared daggers at his friend. McCoy ignored him, waving again, the Cheshire cat smile on full display, and slowly Jim gathered himself and turned, standing as well.

     The Vulcan was walking toward them, carefully making his way through the crowd with deft movements. Gone was the blue science uniform, replaced by a black tunic of some devilish design. Long-sleeved and form-fitting, cut low enough in the front to reveal more of Spock’s chest than Jim was used to seeing. In the five seconds it took his first officer to approach, Jim managed to shut his open mouth, forcing himself to stop staring to shoot another fierce look at an obviously delighted McCoy.

     “Spock,” Jim said gruffly, “good to see you.”

     “I apologize for my unannounced presence, Captain,” the Vulcan replied, clasping his hands behind his back in his usual pose and nodding tightly at McCoy before addressing Jim again. “Your communicator is not on your person.”

     “I know,” Jim said. “Bones took it. He said he had a good reason, on which I’m still waiting for him to elaborate.” Spock’s stance and the professional tone of the Vulcan’s voice had brought the captain back to somewhat more familiar ground. Which was immediately lost again as Jim took in the attractive greenish flush high on Spock’s cheekbones.

     “Well, it was nice seeing you two,” McCoy said sweetly, winking at the waitress’ beckoning motion. “Someone’s waiting for me so I’ll just take care of the check and get going. Oh, and Jim,” he added before ambling away, “don’t worry too much about finding the hotel, will ya?”

     The two men stood somewhat awkwardly before Jim gestured at the doctor’s abandoned seat. “Would you care to join me?”

     “Thank you,” Spock replied immediately, sitting stiffly at the table.

     “I might not be such good company,” Jim hedged. If this was anyone but Spock, he’d know exactly where this was going, but—.

     “Your company is always desired, Jim.”

     The captain’s head snapped up at not only the phrasing of his friend’s response, but also the low sonorous sound of it. Jim couldn’t help feeling rising arousal as he stared into dark eyes that seemed to hold an unspoken question. “So,” Jim remarked lamely, “that’s a nice shirt.”

     Spock didn’t break eye contact. “I have not had occasion to wear it before.”

     “Well, it’s nice,” Jim said. He nervously took another drink, only now remembering the glass clutched in his right hand.

     Spock swallowed, his shoulders shifting minutely. “Would you care to dance, Jim?”

     Jim’s mouth fell open again. “What?”

     “I am endeavoring to attempt the human approach to—.” Spock cut himself off abruptly, swallowing again and casting a sidelong glance in the direction McCoy had disappeared. “If you are not inclined, I shall—.”

     “No!” Jim practically shouted. “No, I’m inclined. I mean.” He put his glass down and stood up, clearing his throat and trying not to appear too excited. “Yes, of course. I’d be honored.” He watched as the color on his friend’s cheekbones deepened and Spock rose, extending his hand.

     Jim hesitated briefly before reaching back. It was surreal, feeling Spock’s hand clasp his own to lead him forward. They’d danced only once before: a diplomatic affair on a newly minted Federation world, and Jim remembered Spock’s deliberate formality and unexpected grace. That dance had been part of their duty that day, but this was something altogether different.

     They walked to the edge of the dance floor, furthest from the speakers, enveloped in near-darkness. Around them, other dancers moved together, absorbed in themselves, and Jim let himself be gently pulled forward, surrendering to the astonishing comfort and warmth of his friend’s arms.

     The Vulcan began to move and Jim followed, allowing his eyes to drift shut. The darkness and music made him feel daring even with this unexpected advance, and Jim inched even closer to the other man in the dreamlike atmosphere.

     “Why now, Mr. Spock?”

     Spock didn’t answer immediately, and Jim opened his eyes again. “Why now?” he repeated.

     “Your communicator was—.”

     “No,” Jim interrupted, “not that. Why are you here dancing with me? I—.”

     “I wished to be here,” Spock broke in softly. “With you. And it was…I was informed of the illogic of continuing to staying away.”

     “Bones,” Jim pronounced.

     “Indeed.”

     “Well,” Jim said, looking down at where their hands were still clasped together, held between them as they danced, “if you didn’t know how I felt before, you certainly do now. Between the booze and the element of surprise, I’m probably projecting pretty openly.”

     Spock bowed his head slightly.

     The captain rambled on, “You coming in here was a shock to begin with, and then you pull this Prince Charming routine and—.”

     An eyebrow lifted. “Precisely the opposite, Jim. As opposed to the fictional hero archetype, I am particularly ill-suited to provide you with, as humans say, happily ever after.”

     “How’s that?”

     “I am a Vulcan.” Spock paused. “This _routine_ , as you put it, is quite outside my nature.”

     Jim shook his head. “Then, why do it?”

     “Because I—.” Spock pressed his lips together and tried again, “I lo—.” He blinked. “It was suggested that a demonstration that goes above and beyond normal bounds of established interaction was required. I have frequently observed that humans—.”

     “Wait.” Jim frowned. “Do you really think I’d need any sort of demonstration, especially from you?”

     Spock looked at him uncertainly. “I was advised that—.”

     “I think the demonstration part was mostly for McCoy’s benefit, honestly. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count. You’ve given me your loyalty and trust and your friendship. Like I said a while back, you know my mind better than anyone in the universe.” He paused, meeting his friend’s brown eyes. “And now you know my heart.”

     Spock’s lips parted, as if he was about to speak. The music changed then, slipping into another slow beat, and the Vulcan looked away.

     Jim chased his gaze, forcing their eyes to meet again. “What were you going to say?”

     “I do not know.”

     “And I thought Vulcans couldn’t lie,” Jim teased. He settled even closer against the other man’s body. “What were you saying about happily ever after?”

     Spock watched him. “I am not suited for such. Particularly for you.”

     “You’re doing pretty well so far.”

     “There is much about our natures that is different.”

     Jim chuckled. “The differences seem to only bring us together.” He tilted his head toward the Vulcan, lowering his voice. “You’re worried about your Time.”

     “And your emotional needs,” Spock said. “I may not be able to fulfill them.”

     “Want to bet?” Jim moved his free hand to caress his friend’s body, fingers smoothing over the rich fabric. “This is nice.”

     “So you mentioned.”

     “I also mean the Prince Charming routine,” Jim countered playfully. “Presently, I feel quite emotionally fulfilled.” He tightened his fingers against Spock’s, thinking as loud as he could, _Am I wrong?_

     The Vulcan blinked. “No, Jim. You are not wrong. I—.” He took another breath, opened his mouth to speak, and then faltered once more.

     Jim smiled, taking a guess at why his friend looked so discomfited. “You know you don’t have to say it out loud.”

     Spock’s expression relaxed slightly as he searched the captain’s eyes. And then Jim felt it: a wave of emotion tumbling past suddenly opened mental barriers and through their shared touch. His knees almost buckled with the sense of it, from the depth of it, and Jim responded to it instinctively, reaching with his free hand to pull Spock’s mouth down to his, their lips coming together. Jim kissed his friend with everything he had, feeling Spock respond in kind. Long, hopeful, passionate kisses, and Jim finally had to pull back, gasping.

     They had stopped dancing, locked together amongst the others moving around them, and suddenly Jim remembered exactly where they were and who might be watching.

     “I’m sorry, Spock,” he said. “Got carried away and—.”

     Spock was staring at him in open wonder, absent shields allowing discernible emotion to illuminate nearly impassive features. “It is no matter, Jim,” he replied, and the barest hint of a smile played at the edges of kiss-swollen lips. He squeezed Jim’s fingers slightly where they were now intertwined. “On Vulcan, _this_ is much more of a consequential action.”

     “More than a kiss?” Jim asked.

     “Quite,” Spock replied. “Perhaps there is a human equivalent to such an escalation?”

     “Want to get out of here?” Jim grinned. “Go back to the ship?”

     The Vulcan’s head tilted. “I think a hotel room will be sufficient. I was counseled to obtain one, the good doctor evidently predicting his own situation in addition to ours.”

     “Good lord.” Jim still couldn’t catch his breath. Something told him that it might be a while until he finally did. “Lead on, Mr. Spock.”

     He followed his second-in-command out of the bar, never letting go of his hand. And he smothered a smile at the whooping cheers from his crew that heralded their exit.

 

 

THE END

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and make no money from this.

 

 

 

 


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